A Straight Wife Fallen from the Sky - Chapter 36.2

“Be good, be a little quieter.” After the recent lesson, Mu Jiahui didn’t dare say a single harsh word. She recalled Sang Zhancheng’s words and realized there was a significant problem.

Sang Zhancheng stopped howling and clung to her, sobbing silently. Mu Jiahui didn’t care if her clothes got dirty and helped Sang Zhancheng settle her breathing.

“Do you feel like you just can’t do it at all?” Mu Jiahui asked softly. This issue had to be resolved today.

Sang Zhancheng looked up, tears still streaming down, her eyes horribly swollen. “What… what else? As long as you aren’t here, I can’t focus… I do a little bit and then I start playing, I really… I can’t.”

The Shared Burden

Mu Jiahui didn’t meet her gaze. “I once felt that way too.” Her gaze drifted toward the distance, and the momentary sense of detachment made Sang Zhancheng afraid.

“Mumu? But you’re really amazing.” Sang Zhancheng looked up, stopping her tears. “You don’t play at all; you’re always busy. You have to explain problems to me, and you found a job—how could you feel like you can’t do it?”

Mu Jiahui’s hand remained on Sang Zhancheng’s head. “But everyone said so. Everyone told me I couldn’t do it.”

“Who?”

“Everyone. Everyone around me tried to persuade me to give up on school. Even my relatives, even though my grades weren’t bad at all.” Mu Jiahui spoke slowly.

In a daze, Sang Zhancheng seemed to follow her to that dilapidated village, surrounded by yellow earth and dust, with houses that couldn’t even keep out the rain. There were no clean tiled buildings, no electronic devices for entertainment—not even lights or food. In her confusion, Sang Zhancheng began to understand Mu Jiahui’s habit of eating leftovers. It turned out she had once gone hungry.

“Why? Since you weren’t doing badly, why did they want to stop you?” Back in reality, Sang Zhancheng didn’t understand. She herself did poorly, so everyone said she couldn’t do it. She could understand that, and thus she believed it too. But what about Mu Jiahui? Sang Zhancheng had seen Mu Jiahui’s notes and heard her lectures. Mu Jiahui had mentioned that the subjects in the other world weren’t exactly the same as in her original world. To master so much knowledge in such a short time, Sang Zhancheng felt she was incredible.

“…Perhaps because I wasn’t the best. Perhaps they thought I wouldn’t get any better. Perhaps they felt my greatest value wasn’t in studying or working, but in marrying and raising children.” Mu Jiahui didn’t say too much. She felt there was no need to mention the past that might have crushed her, and she believed Sang Zhancheng wouldn’t understand.

Sang Zhancheng fell silent. She felt a glimmer of similarity. Her family had said similar things, though in a much gentler way—repeatedly telling her that it was okay to be “stupid” and that someone would always love her. Could that be wrong? Sang Zhancheng wanted to ask, but Mu Jiahui wasn’t looking at her.

“But… for a succubus, finding a partner is the most important thing.” After a long silence, Sang Zhancheng finally spoke. Mu Jiahui’s attitude wasn’t forceful, and with her role as a teacher, Sang Zhancheng didn’t want to argue. But she truly couldn’t understand.

“Because you have to rely on [the physical] to live?” Mu Jiahui finally retracted her gaze and looked into Sang Zhancheng’s eyes. Those eyes were as pure as glass, without a hint of impurity.

Back when they first met, Mu Jiahui knew there was a huge gap between her values and Sang Zhancheng’s. Sometimes she actually envied her. With no worries about food or drink, even as a “rice worm” (parasite), it was fine to be taken care of. Whether one worked hard or played, Sang Zhancheng had plenty of choices. Even if she followed in her mother’s footsteps, she could obtain a superficial happiness, a fragile decency, and a modest amount of respect.

But Mu Jiahui had none of that. If she slackened even slightly, malice would pour over her. One misstep and her end would be a bottomless abyss. Everything she had, she had to fight for herself; she even had to resist the allure of the “sweet words” from the outside world. Besides, she didn’t want the decency given by others. Her value was for her to decide and her to fight for.

“That’s how it is; without a partner, we’ll die.” Sang Zhancheng fidgeted with her fingers awkwardly. She now felt this trait was a bit strange, though she couldn’t say exactly why.

Mu Jiahui just stroked her head. “We’ll talk about that later.” She understood a bit more of the succubus’s predicament. “What I want to say is that even though so many people said I wasn’t good enough or that I couldn’t do it, I ultimately succeeded. So, from now on, you must forget those words you heard before—the ones that made you feel stupid or incapable. If you really can’t concentrate, why is it that you can when I’m here?”

“Uh… because, because you’re a bit scary… Mumu, don’t be angry.” The honest succubus confessed truthfully.

Mu Jiahui glanced at her and raised her hand. Sang Zhancheng instinctively closed her eyes and shrunk her head. Truly scary! She’s going to flick my forehead again!

Mu Jiahui nearly rolled her eyes. She patted the little head that wasn’t very smart to begin with, aiming to “pat her into being smarter.” You could call this kid bold, yet she was scared of a little pat. You could call her cowardly, yet she dared to argue.

“That’s called pressure. When there’s external pressure on you, you can do it. But your internal pressure isn’t enough, so the moment I leave, you start playing.” Thinking of how the kid had wasted another hour, Mu Jiahui was fuming but couldn’t bring herself to scold her. She decided to finish this task and then quit—she’d never teach a high school senior again; it really shortened one’s life.

“Ah…” Sang Zhancheng held her head. She felt as if she’d been patted into being even dumber; she didn’t understand what Mu Jiahui was saying. External pressure, internal pressure—is this physical pressure?

“It means it’s not that you really can’t, it’s that you don’t want to.” Mu Jiahui pushed the clinging little succubus away and pressed her to the desk.

“I don’t! I want to go to university,” Sang Zhancheng said with a straight face. Even after these several weeks, her inner core was still in a state of indifference. She could deceive herself, but she couldn’t deceive Mu Jiahui, who had seen far too many students.

The Monthly Exam Challenge

Mu Jiahui pondered a solution. Aside from constant praise, achieving results was also a way to generate internal motivation.

“Once you finish this unit, let’s do a complete nine-subject monthly exam!” Mu Jiahui thought beautifully. She was already dreaming of the days when Sang Zhancheng would gain internal motivation and study like crazy after getting good results.

Sang Zhancheng didn’t buy it. her tail gave a little shudder. “Mumu… how about we reconsider…?”

A monthly exam! Every student’s nightmare! Something you couldn’t even cram for at the last minute! Even though Sang Zhancheng had never seriously participated in one, she still found monthly exams annoying. They wasted time she could have spent playing with friends. While her friends were busy reviewing, she could only draw alone. Now it was her turn to be the one reviewing for the exam.

Sang Zhancheng swallowed and wagged her tail unconsciously at Mu Jiahui. Mu Jiahui turned her head, refusing the “Xiaobai temptation.”

“No discussion. If you do well, there’s a reward. You name it—as long as it’s not excessive.”

“! Then experience the ‘Great Harmony of Life’ with me!” Sang Zhancheng didn’t even think before the “colorful filth” flowed from her brain to her mouth.

“?” Mu Jiahui didn’t understand this euphemism. She thought for a moment—the “harmony of life” should refer to meditation. She didn’t expect a succubus to have such an interest. Mu Jiahui’s look toward Sang Zhancheng became odd. “Fine.” If the kid wanted to meditate, she’d go with her. Isn’t it just spacing out? She could do that.

“!!! Okay, okay, great! Mumu! You’re so good! I finally, wuwu…” In her excitement, Sang Zhancheng jumped up and hugged Mu Jiahui. Mu Jiahui saw her tail change color again and had a feeling something bad was about to happen.

One day later, Sang Zhancheng began her first monthly exam of her succubus life. Mu Jiahui had recovered and finished her manuscript, submitting it to her company, after which she began to focus on proctoring (and studying).

An hour and a half later, the company sent an email. Mu Jiahui opened it and found the company thought she had submitted the wrong thing, telling her to take two days off and do it slowly. So I submitted it early? Mu Jiahui looked at the difficulty of the task. If it hadn’t been for the food situation and her illness, she could have finished it in one day. This company is too lax! They even want me to rest. I’d rather die than rest!

Mu Jiahui complained to herself. Given the workload, she felt she could take on three jobs at once. So she found another part-time job and began preparing for her entrepreneurial venture in food preservation and taste differentiation. All of this happened while Sang Zhancheng spent the day wracking her brain over the monthly exam papers.

It took Sang Zhancheng a full day to finish the nine papers. Afterward, she was exhausted, even for the “Great Harmony of Life”… no, she still wanted that. She looked at Mu Jiahui with eyes that were glowing. The first time in her succubus life! It was here!

Mu Jiahui pushed Sang Zhancheng aside and began to diligently grade the papers.

“…” What about the Great Harmony? Sang Zhancheng’s tail drooped, its wagging frequency slowed, and she looked pitiful. But Mu Jiahui didn’t look at her. Weren’t monthly exam papers more attractive than Sang Xiaobai? Mu Jiahui’s favorite thing was grading students’ exams.

It seemed she’d have to wait until Mu Jiahui finished grading. Sang Zhancheng pulled up a chair and sat beside Mu Jiahui, watching her grade. A cross, two crosses, three crosses… Sang Zhancheng didn’t dare look anymore. She turned away, already feeling afraid.

Indeed, with Sang Zhancheng’s “seven-second memory,” she could even forget knowledge she had learned so solidly just the day before. Without a review before the monthly exam—taking it “naked”—it would be a miracle if she did well. Mu Jiahui became more and more speechless as she graded. Only a few weeks had passed, and Sang Zhancheng had already returned everything she’d been taught. It seemed that periodic reviews and unit tests were extremely necessary for Sang Zhancheng. Otherwise, how would she fare in the “First Diagnosis” exam in two months?

Yes, according to the information Mu Jiahui had gathered, the high school seniors in this world also had three diagnostic exams. The first was usually in November or December and was the mock exam closest to the difficulty of the actual college entrance exam. There was a legend here that your rank in the first diagnosis would be your rank in the actual exam.

Mu Jiahui felt weary. It seemed she had to add an hour of review time for Sang Zhancheng every day. Waking up at 7:30 was too late; what high school senior didn’t wake up at 5:00 or 6:00 to start studying? Lazy! Too lazy!

“Stop looking, go and review. Go over all the knowledge points you missed just now.” Mu Jiahui looked at Sang Zhancheng clinging to her side, feeling like a teacher disappointed in a student, and pressed her to the desk, not letting her take the chance to slack off.

“I just wrote so much… I’m tired, I can’t study anymore.” Sang Zhancheng collapsed onto the desk, capable of falling asleep in a second.

“It’s only 10:00 and you’re going to sleep? Have you memorized your vocabulary before bed?”

“Wuu…” The crybaby started again. Sang Zhancheng stared at “Mu the Demon,” accusing her with every fiber of her being. After a whole day of exams, she wasn’t even allowed an hour of rest! Mu Jiahui was an absolute demon! How hateful!

With three sentences, she had made the succubus grit her teeth and give up on her “colorful filth”—Mu Jiahui was indeed very skilled. In truth, if it hadn’t been for the fact that the papers were so poorly done, Mu Jiahui wouldn’t have been so cruel as to deny her an hour of rest. But the scores were too ugly; Mu Jiahui couldn’t stand the culprit wandering around aimlessly by her side and had to force her to do something productive.

The Score Reveal

Half an hour later, excluding the two essays, all the papers were graded. Mu Jiahui set the essays aside and calculated the total score.

Subject

Mathematics    87

Physics            35

Chemistry        53

Biology            67

Minor subjects (combined)        90

Mu Jiahui looked at that 35 in Physics and nearly fainted. Chemistry and Biology had at least passed the halfway mark, and the minors were also over half. For Mathematics, she could blame Sang Zhancheng for forgetting definitions, but what was going on with Physics? Just two days ago, she had been getting almost all the basic problems right.

Ten minutes later, all the papers were fully graded. Chinese was 103, and English was the highest at 127. Mu Jiahui suppressed her anger and added the scores. It was over 500—actually, not bad.

But these were only unit tests. They didn’t cover as much knowledge as the actual college entrance exam, let alone the difficulty. Mu Jiahui had specifically chosen relatively easy unit tests, fearing she would crush the kid’s confidence. Yet Sang Zhancheng still ended up like this. Mu Jiahui pinched her philtrum, beginning to need oxygen.

Sang Zhancheng was still focused on memorizing vocabulary. Currently, of all subjects, she was most interested in English, followed by Chinese. Both subjects allowed her to read many stories, which was much more interesting than dry numbers. This was also reflected in her grades; if not improving rapidly, at least the scores for these two weren’t “ugly.” If she continued this way, even if the actual exam were like this, she would meet the threshold for a second-tier university. Of course, only for these two subjects.

But Mu Jiahui’s expectations for Sang Zhancheng weren’t just a second-tier university. To get into a first-tier university, Sang Zhancheng couldn’t afford to be partial to subjects; she even had to raise her scores in Chinese and English. Mu Jiahui spent fifteen minutes summarizing the types of mistakes Sang Zhancheng had made next to the problems and returned the papers to her.

Sang Zhancheng took the papers with trembling hands. When she saw she had missed three multiple-choice questions in a row in Mathematics, she had a bad premonition. At this moment, she had one hand covering her eyes and the other holding the papers, her mouth mumbling a prayer Mu Jiahui couldn’t understand. It was a language unique to succubi, and translated, it meant: Please let me get over 300, I must get over 300.

Fortunately, Mu Jiahui couldn’t understand; otherwise, she would have certainly given Sang Zhancheng a couple of whacks. You dare set a target of 300? Have some ambition!

Once she finished her prayer, Sang Zhancheng slowly spread her fingers, letting the light enter her eyes bit by bit. The first thing she saw was the 35 in Physics. It’s over, it’s all over! With this score, how can I reach 300! She was going to have to pinch her philtrum too!

Sang Zhancheng was standing. Upon seeing this terrifying score, she took a deep breath, staggered, and spun backward, falling into the chair. Mu Jiahui, disturbed by the noise, turned to see Sang Zhancheng using her tail as a pivot to land perfectly in the embrace of the office chair.

Not very “physics,” is it? So why on earth does this world test Physics instead of Magic Theory? The Bureau of Education Director from the tech world: I keep my name and deeds hidden.

“Done looking?” Mu Jiahui saw Sang Zhancheng remaining motionless and thought she was discouraged, so she was thinking about how to comfort and encourage her.

Sang Zhancheng shook her head and then quickly flipped through the remaining subjects. If she looked fast enough, the scores would slip from her mind and wouldn’t hurt her. Her sorrowful heart was comforted by the English score of 127 at the very end. What do you know, I did okay in something!

Then she saw the total score Mu Jiahui had calculated. “Wow! I got over 500! I’m so amazing!!”

“…” Mu Jiahui had worried for nothing. She should have expected it—someone who scored 200 in the college entrance exam wouldn’t be discouraged by a 500 on a unit test; she’d be ecstatic.

“Mumu! Am I amazing or what! It’s only been a few days, and my score has… doubled… tripled… uh…” Sang Zhancheng began counting on her fingers again.

Mu Jiahui patted her forehead. How can a girl not even calculate how many times she’s improved yet think she’s amazing! Is this optimism? This is simply naivety! Simplicity! Stupidity! But she couldn’t say those things to Sang Zhancheng.

Mu Jiahui struggled to swallow her words and squeezed out one word: “Yes.”

“Hehe, I knew it~ It’s Mumu who’s even more amazing! To be able to teach me—Mumu is the best~” Sang Zhancheng nearly danced on the spot with her “500-point score.” She tossed the papers aside, launched herself into the air, and pounced toward Mu…